


At Least Six Impossible Things

by cerie



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerie/pseuds/cerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She loves him and this feels <i>right</i> in a way that nothing has in the last six years but she’s so nervous she’s going to fuck it up. She’s also a different woman than she’d been back then, seen a lot more things, and wonders if new MacKenzie will measure up to the fantasy in Will’s head. Time can make even the most mundane memories golden and she can't go back to yesterday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Episode tag for 2x09 Election Night II. It is my goal to try and post new chapters on Sunday in a weak and feeble attempt to get us through this hiatus.

MacKenzie has never been a heavy drinker and tonight, fueled solely by adrenaline and elation, is no exception to that rule. She has three glasses of champagne and feels giddy and suspects that if someone doesn’t hold her down, her head’s going to float off like a balloon. Everyone wants to get a look at the ring and she’s more than happy to show them, still in disbelief that Will kept the damned thing and then proceeded to ask her to marry him not even an hour after he’d told her it was all a joke. 

Tonight she feels she’s gone down the rabbit hole. It’s a pleasant feeling, though, and sometime around three she feels Will’s arm go around her waist and hears him announce to everyone that they can feel free to keep partying but he’s headed home. A cheer raises up from the crowd and it’s _implied_ that going home means getting her in bed and for once MacKenzie doesn’t care what anyone thinks about her sex life. If they all want to assume she’s going home to fuck Will, let them assume. 

Will carefully escorts her downstairs and into a cab and she leans against him as soon as he slides in. His shoulder seems to make a decent enough pillow and the cab ride is just long enough to lull her into a fitful sleep only for her to be startled awake when they stop in front of Will’s building. MacKenzie wakes up just enough to ascertain that she has _not_ drooled on Will’s shoulder (points for her) and his arm slides around her waist again to help her up to his apartment. She doesn’t think she’s ever been this tired before in her life. 

There’d been nights close to this in Afghanistan, of course, but the fear for her life at any given moment had prevented her from actually falling into the deep, restful sleep that she suspects is on the agenda for tonight. She’d always slept with one eye open, more or less, and it seems to have bled over into her life with News Night 2.0 as well; she hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep since she was with Will the first time all those years ago and maybe it has less to do with her and more to do with _them _; Will has always made her content in ways that no other man ever has.__

__She hasn’t ever stayed over with him in this apartment. His apartment when they were together was nice, of course, but it wasn’t quite this monstrosity either. He hadn’t been nearly so famous before she left and it was only by not bothering anyone that he grew his audience to the beast it was now. Sure, they’d like it to be bigger, but it concerns MacKenzie less than it does Will. She suspects that’s because she’s never tried to use Nielsen numbers to patch up a broken heart._ _

__“T-shirts are in the top drawer. Don’t know why you seem to think mine are better than yours but I know you, Mac, and I know I’m not going to have many left to claim for my own after a few weeks.” MacKenzie isn’t exactly sure that the enormity of this situation has hit her yet but her hand pauses over the drawer pull anyway. She’s gone from ex-girlfriend to fiancee in less than twenty four hours and her head is spinning with the gravity of that. She feels like a little girl when her brothers would spin her around on the merry-go-round, the sick lull of centripetal force making her dizzy and setting her stomach to quaking. She wonders if it’s going to calm down in the morning, if she’ll be content in her new role and have settled into her new skin but she strangely suspects that it won’t and she’ll still feel like she’s barely tethered to the ground._ _

__“Right, yeah. Love t-shirts. I still have a bunch of yours from before,” she admits quietly, forcing herself to laugh while she yanks the drawer with a little more force than necessary. She pulls out a soft cotton shirt with some faded logo on it (a sports team, if she knows Will at all) and lays it against the bed before she starts sliding out of her clothes. She’s stepped out of her shoes and reached behind her to unbutton her skirt when she feels Will’s hands at her shoulders and his lips against her neck._ _

__“God, I love you. I’m so glad you said yes.” MacKenzie is glad too, of course, and this is all she’s ever wanted but she still feels a little dizzy and wants to push him away. She hasn’t had time to sort out her thoughts and feelings and as much as she loves him, it’s really hard to go from being wounded and hurt by him on a regular basis to having him kiss her neck and want to share his intimacies with her again. She wonders if there’s a way to ask to take this slow, if they can just dip their toes in the water before diving in headfirst but then she thinks about Will’s eyes when she told him that she’d cheated and decides against it; hurting Will is the last thing she ever wants to do._ _

__His hands slide over her shoulders and unbutton the top two buttons on her blouse and MacKenzie lays one of her hands over his, stilling him. “Honey, I love you and I’m happy to be here and I’m ecstatic I’m marrying you but I haven’t slept in days and I just want to go to sleep. It’s not an indictment of you or us or _anything_ other than the fact that I’m half-drunk and exhausted.” She feels the rumble of Will’s laugh where his chest is pressed against her back and he drops a sweet kiss on her hair before stepping away. Thank God. _ _

__She finishes undressing and tosses the shirt over her head before crawling into bed, cursing a little under her breath when the diamond in her ring presses against her cheek and she has to readjust her hands. After that, everything goes blissfully black for a little while and there’s just cool, soft sheets and Will’s warmth curled up behind her._ _

____

***

MacKenzie wakes up to sunlight streaming through the veritable wall of plate glass windows in Will’s bedroom and his lips at the back of her neck. It seems he’s woken up a little earlier than she has, at least early enough to have some control over his faculties, because these kisses feel deliberate. One of his hands slides up the smooth length of her thigh and cups her hip beneath the t-shirt, hiking it up so it’s bunched up around her waist. MacKenzie sighs and presses back against him; it’s pretty evident exactly what Will wants this morning and she’s more than happy to give it to him.

Unlike Will, she’s never really felt like sex and romance have to go hand in hand. Will made a valiant attempt at being a playboy and sleeping around but she knows, deep down, he’d prefer to make love to one woman than to fuck several. She, on the other hand, had started a relationship with Will solely to make Brian jealous and for the first four months of it, she was more than happy to fuck Will and take advantage of his trust while secretly wanting Brian back.

She’s also fully aware she’s a fucking idiot but she guesses that’s all water under the bridge now. 

Will hooks his hand in her panties and tugs them down, leaving them somewhere in the vicinity of her knees (she kicks them the rest of the way off) before he gets irritated with that and decides to put his hand to a much better use. MacKenzie whimpers when he tugs her leg so that her calf is tucked behind his knee and she’s spread wide; she whimpers even louder when she feels his fingers slide along the line between her thigh and hip just to tease before he brushes them against her clit. She’s already wet and his fingers slide easily against her, just playing and teasing and not really giving her anything of substance to work with. “Come on,” she grinds out but the position he has her in doesn’t let her move very much and she’s at his mercy. MacKenzie both loves and loathes that.

He seems to take pity on her, though, because his fingers slide into her slowly and his thumb starts rubbing her clit with intensity and purpose that wasn’t there before. His lips slide from her neck down to where her shoulder is exposed from the oversized shirt and as she cries out and bucks against his hand as she comes, his teeth scrape against her hard enough to sting a little; MacKenzie knows it’s going to be a visible bruise in a few hours and she really can’t find it in herself to care. It’s a badge of honor, proof that she’s living this fantasy in the real world and it’s not some grown-up version of Alice in Wonderland where she chases her dreams with no real resolution. 

She relaxes a little and Will lets her go, standing up for a moment to slide off his boxers before pinning her between his knees. MacKenzie’s preferred position has always been on top but right now, she’s pretty sure there’s nothing she wants more in this world than to be under him and feel him moving in her. His hands are confident and steady as he slides her t-shirt up and off and MacKenzie wishes she didn’t feel quite so shaky. She loves him and this feels _right_ in a way that nothing has in the last six years but she’s so nervous she’s going to fuck it up. She’s also a different woman than she’d been back then, seen a lot more things, and wonders if new MacKenzie will measure up to the fantasy in Will’s head. Time can make even the most mundane memories golden and she can't go back to yesterday. 

She parts her thighs for him and Will slides in slowly, letting her feel the whole length of him before he pulls away again. It’s a tease and just a hint of what’s to come but MacKenzie lets out a ragged little sigh anyway; it’s been too long for them to fuck around with it but she doesn’t really know how to tell Will that. He slides in again and hooks her leg up over his hip, changing the angle and pressing in deeper. Fuck. Yes. They’ve always been good together like this even when their edges were jagged and words didn’t come out quite right and MacKenzie is so relieved that no matter how overwhelmed she feels about the engagement, _this_ part, the part that matters? Is absolutely perfect.

“I love you,” Will murmurs, voice low and gravelly. MacKenzie whispers it back before kissing him soundly and she feels a shift in him then, feels how his thrusts get more and more erratic and how he’s less confident, self-assured Will and more like the man she fell in love with all those years ago. He buries his face against her neck when he comes, lips alternating between kisses and absolute nonsense and MacKenzie digs her nails into his hip in a vain attempt to leave him with a little mark, an indelible reminder of their reconnection.

He slides off her after a few moments and pulls her close. MacKenzie finds that it’s automatic to pillow her head against his chest and the slow, soft brush of Will’s fingers against her skin lulls her into a content, drowsy place. She’s still not feeling terribly confident about being his fiancee and there’s still some hurt and confusion she needs to work through about how he got this ring in the first place but for right now, she thinks, it’ll be all right. 

Will laughs beneath her and she props up a little, frowning as she tries to work out why. “Just wondering how long it’ll take them to realize you didn’t come in on time this morning.”

Well, _fuck_. There goes her sixty day streak of being a competent boss. 

It doesn’t matter.


	2. Chapter 2

Coming into the newsroom on November 7th is fairly surreal. Everyone looks a little haggard after weeks and weeks of nonstop election coverage and when MacKenzie crosses the bullpen to go get coffee, everyone looks up and checks the clock before burying their heads back in work. MacKenzie spots more than a few snickers at the time and, yes, she hasn’t turned up at the office this late in, well, ever but there’s no need for all that.

She thinks she might have possibly not been so late if she and Will hadn’t showered together but in her defense, she thought it would save them time and not make them any later than usual. For the future she knows that’s probably not going to be an option. She ends up making it into her office without being stopped by anyone and takes a few minutes just to drink her coffee, read her email and collect herself.

It’s only when the mid-morning sun catches the diamond in her ring and sets it to sparkling that she gets distracted again. It’s ridiculous, this ring, and she worries it between finger and thumb for a moment before going back to her job. She likes it, yes, but it’s absolutely ostentatious and practically screams to the world “I’M FUCKING WILL MCAVOY AND I’VE GOT THE ROCK TO PROVE IT.” MacKenzie thinks she might have liked something a bit more subtle but she’s not going to tell Will to take it back. Even if it was originally a joke, he’d proposed with this ring and telling him that she doesn’t like it is not going to end well. She wouldn’t dare bruise his ego at this fragile stage. Besides, she _does_ like it, it’s just gigantic.

She’s clicking through her alerts when there’s a knock at her door and it swings in before she can say anything. She’s prepared to be mildly annoyed when she realizes that it’s Will and instead she settles back in her chair and smiles a little. He looks like a schoolboy with pink cheeks and windswept hair and he deposits two things on her desk.

One is a very large bagel and lox from her favorite bakery and the other is a flat, rectangular box with Harry Winston embossed on the top. Considering he’d just given her a Tiffany ring the night before, she isn’t expecting anything and she squints at him for a moment before finally putting him out of his misery and opening the box. There’s a pendant tucked inside strung of a chain of platinum, a cluster of brilliant diamonds that look like a little sunflower. It’s extravagant but that’s Will. He’s always given extravagant presents.

“Do you like it?” he asks and MacKenzie can’t help but laugh. There’s not a woman in the world that doesn’t want her breakfast served up with diamonds and it’s a gorgeous pendant. “Of course I like it, you idiot, but you’re going to go broke if you give me diamonds for breakfast every morning. Do you want me to wear it now?”

She’s wearing her usual necklace at the moment, gold and strung with little coins, and Will comes around behind her and carefully undoes the clasp before exchanging this necklace for the new one. He’d given her both, yes, but she guesses this diamond necklace is a symbol of their rekindled relationship and fresh start. She’s not really going to question it because who does that?

She tucks the old necklace into the box and hands it to Will. “Can you please go lock this in your safe until I’m ready to leave tonight? I don’t want it to go missing, it means a lot to me.” Will nods and leans down to brush his lips against her forehead before settling in the chair opposite her desk. She has a hell of a lot of work to do but she isn’t about to run Will out of her office when they’re engaged.

(She’s still not sure she believes that in spite of the weight of the diamond on her finger). 

“Election wrap-up all night tonight, yeah?” MacKenzie nods. There’s not much else to really focus on yet and she wants to get in the comments about Brody before breaking Petraeus in a few days. MacKenzie is very fond of getting her cake and eating it too when it comes to breaking news and since she’s got an ear on the ground about Petraeus thanks to Don’s source, she can find _other_ sources to run that before everyone else gets their hands on it. 

“Election, Brody in California, Petraeus if I can get it double confirmed by someone other than Don’s friend,” she says, ticking them off with her fingers. “Probably something else but I won’t know until we have a rundown meeting at two. Jim’s supposed to be bringing me notes from this morning.” 

Will reaches across her desk and catches her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of it. “Try not to wear yourself out? I need you to not pass out in the control room tonight.” MacKenzie scoffs but secretly she’s a little charmed by his concern. It’s been a long time since Will’s been open about affection with her and while it still seems a little forced on his end, she appreciates the effort he’s putting forth. The least she can do is receive it in the spirit he’s intended it. 

“You need me to not pass out every night, McAvoy. I own you.” He chuckles a little and shifts to stand, pausing in the doorway. “You own me every hour of every day, MacKenzie. I’m stubborn sometimes but I’m not a complete idiot. Are you coming over tonight?”

She flashes him a little grin. “We’ll see. I can’t afford to be constantly late to work and you seem to distract me.”

***

She doesn’t end up coming over. She presses a kiss to Will’s mouth in a dark corner of the studio and says she has a little more work she wants to do so there’s no point in him waiting around for her. He insists that he’ll wait and they can swing by her place to get an overnight bag but MacKenzie waves him off. She has a set routine that she isn’t entirely comfortable with having upended just yet and it’s not anything against Will, it’s just she’s not quite sure she can handle the rapid changes her life has gone through in the last forty eight hours.

When she finally gets home around 11:15, she strips down and crawls into bed naked, unwilling to muster up the energy to find pajamas. There’s just two more shows this week and then she can spend a whole weekend at Will’s guilt-free and unfettered and she thinks that will be much better than stressing out the entire time she’s supposed to be enjoying time with her fiance. She’s almost asleep when the phone rings and a quick glance at the display shows that it’s Will. Of course. 

“Hi, honey,” she murmurs, burying herself a little deeper beneath the blankets. It would be better if she was over at his place but she guesses this is the next best thing. Besides, she has a lingering fear that Will is going to take his proposal back if he has her in his face every moment of every day and she thinks she ought to ease into this a little for both their sakes. She’s not prepared to have her heart broken again and she doesn’t suspect that Will is either.

“Hey,” he mumbles back. His voice is low and smooth and MacKenzie strongly suspects he’s either been drinking or smoking or possibly a combination of both. It’s self-medicating and she knows that so she can’t help but frown a little that Will’s doing that when seemingly the things in his life have all straightened themselves out. She’s not the only one with demons, apparently. “Really wish you’d come home with me tonight. Bed feels lonely.”

MacKenzie giggles a little. “I’ve slept with you precisely once in the last six years, Will, I’m not sure how your bed feels that bereft when you’re not used to having me in it.” She’d meant it to be funny but there’s a long pause on his end and the laughter in her throat dies out. Oh. He’s been single a lot less time than she has been and maybe he’s used to having a woman in his bed even though she’s more used to sleeping alone. 

“I haven’t had you in bed with me more than once in six years but that doesn’t mean that I didn’t miss you every single fucking day, Mac. Every day. I know you think that I didn’t...that I hated you, that I was glad you were gone, but that wasn’t the case. I missed you every single day. It was even harder when you came back and you were here but I couldn’t be with you. I think I’m entitled to miss you a little bit.”

His voice is a little hurt and MacKenzie isn’t sure what she can say to ease it. She shifts in bed a little, fingers toying lightly with the edge of her duvet. “Do you want me to come over, Will? It’s late but I don’t have a problem getting dressed and coming over.” She’s starting to think she should have just taken him up on his offer to begin with but she’d...well, she just hadn’t thought it through.

“Yeah. I want you to come over.” MacKenzie throws off the blankets and starts looking around for her clothes, phone cradled between her shoulder and ear. Will’s voice is soft and barely audible and she wishes she’d thought to turn up the volume before she started moving around. “When I ask you over, it means I want you here, Mac. It’s not...I’m not going to get tired of you.”

MacKenzie feels horribly guilty and shoves things in her overnight bag with a little more force than necessary. She makes a soft little sound in agreement and looks around for her bra even though she knows it’s going to come right off once she gets to Will’s apartment. “I’m never going to get tired of you.”

She guesses she’s been a little obvious about that today. She doesn’t want Will to think she’s getting cold feet (she absolutely is not) but she also thinks he’s not really being very practical about the whole thing. 

Then again, when is love ever practical?

“I’ll be over in a little bit,” MacKenzie assures him. “Just need to catch a cab. I’ll...I brought enough to stay through the weekend.” It’s a big assumption but Will’s voice is warm and soft and loving through the phone and she guesses that she’s made the right one based on how fucking elated he sounds. She guesses if it were up to Will, he’d have her move in right away, but MacKenzie isn’t so sure about that.

It’s only after she’s crawled into bed next to him and pillowed her head on his chest that she can really say what she’s thinking. Having this conversation over the phone would have been cruel and she doesn’t want to do that to Will, not after all the things she’s done to him over the past few years. “It’s not really that I thought you’d get tired of me. I mean, it is a little, but that’s not all of it. I’m just…I know that you love me and this is what I want more than anything but I’m having a little trouble adjusting my mind to expect to hear sweet things from you and not hurtful ones. We’ve spent more time hating each other than loving each other, you know?”

Will is quiet and his hand slowly drifts through her hair, playing lightly with tousled strands. “MacKenzie, I’m never going to hurt you again. I told you that. I am absolutely never going to hurt you again and you can trust me.”

MacKenzie buries her face in against his neck, trying to get as close as possible so that he knows she isn’t going anywhere and she’s not trying to hurt him. “I know, Will. Rationally, I know. It’s just taking my heart a little while to catch up, all right?”


	3. Chapter 3

Thanksgiving has never been a holiday that MacKenzie has done much for because she’s not much of a cook and her family all lives in England and doesn’t celebrate it anyway. The few times she has celebrated it have been with Will and when Thanksgiving morning dawns clear and cold, she’s not inclined to get out of bed. Will has decided to have their meal catered and that means they don’t have to do much of anything if they don’t want to. MacKenzie prefers it this way.

He’s still asleep when she slides up behind him, arms going around his waist and face tucked in against his neck. Will’s like a furnace and while it’s unbearable in the summer, it’s really nice this time of year when the apartment gets cold because he has too many fucking windows. He huffs a little and rolls over, pinning her flat on her back while he presses a kiss against her bare shoulder. That works too and MacKenzie ruffles her fingers lightly through his hair and sighs as she feels his stubble scrape against soft skin. “Happy Thanksgiving, honey,” she says, laughing when he mutters something about it being too fucking early.

“We could get up and watch the parade?” Will doesn’t really sound like he’s terribly committed to that but MacKenzie extricates herself from his arms anyway, getting up and nodding her head toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get in the shower. It’s going to be nice and hot and there’s going to be steam billowing everywhere. I’m going to be slick and naked and all soaped up and you can be a grump in bed or…”

MacKenzie doesn’t finish the sentence before Will has hauled himself out of bed and whipped off his t-shirt, dropping it in the floor halfway to the bathroom. Well then. She guesses her offer’s been accepted and she’s more than content with that, especially since it doesn’t take her very long to slide off her own tank top and panties to add to Will’s clothes. He has a hand hooked in the waistband of his boxers but she stops him, kneeling down and sliding them off herself. The tile in the bathroom is cold against her knees but she doesn’t give a fuck, not when Will’s still half asleep and she wants to wake him up spectacularly. She slides the tip of her tongue along the length of him, just teasing, and his hand tightens in her hair.

“I thought we were going to take a shower?” he mumbles, gruff, and MacKenzie laughs and presses a kiss against his hip. “We are. I’m just trying to improve your mood because you’re fucking grumpy this morning.” She slides her mouth down on him, sucking soft and slow, and Will draws in a sharp breath. She doesn’t intend to get him off this way because she wants other things a hell of a lot more but it’s a nice warm-up for them. MacKenzie thinks one of the sexiest things in the world is knowing someone so well that you know what every draw of breath means, what every shift in weight can signify, that when his hand loosens in her hair it only means that he’s sliding it to her shoulder because he’s close to losing it and he doesn’t want to hurt her. She loves that she _knows_ these things about him and she slides her mouth away slowly, releasing him so she can do other, more acrobatic things. 

“Come on, honey, shower?” Will sighs and wrenches the taps so the shower runs hot and he tugs her inside, wrapping his arms around her and kissing his way down her neck and shoulder. His body mostly shields her from the spray of the water and MacKenzie sighs, knees going a little weak. She’s always loved the way that Will can seduce her, the way he knows all the things about her that just make her go to jelly inside, and he seems to be more than willing to put those things to use this morning. He finds her mouth with his and MacKenzie parts her lips, whimpering a little. Jesus. He’s always been an amazing kisser. 

Will’s shower is just big enough that he can back her into a corner and kiss her until she’s fairly sure her heart’s going to explode and then, in spite of the fact that she feels him hot and hard against her hip, he stops and reaches for the soap. She doesn’t have any of her own things here but that doesn’t really matter, not when taking a shower means smelling like Will’s all over her and that’s a more than appealing notion. She likes going to work with her hair and body smelling like _him_ and, better yet, she likes everyone knowing that she’s obviously not gone home the night before. She’s nowhere close to moving in and she won’t be for a while but damned if she doesn’t feel a little naughty staying over when it’s a work night. Moot point, though, because today’s a holiday. 

His hands glide over her skin, mapping out every curve and shift of her body and the soap just makes him linger a little longer than would normally be comfortable. His fingers pluck at her nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks and he washes the soap away, grinning as he cups her hips and boosts her up enough that he can get his mouth on them. MacKenzie tips her head back and bites her lip, trying not to cry out when he sucks hard and grazes one with just the edge of his teeth before giving the same attention to the other. Her cunt’s throbbing and she just wants _him_ but Will seems more than prepared to make her wait for that; she’s guessing maybe she shouldn’t have teased him with half a blow job earlier. 

“Billy, please,” she murmurs, barely audible over the shower and he kisses her lips quickly and slides her down just enough that he can brush his cock against her. Once, twice, three passes and MacKenzie claws down into his shoulder hard enough that she knows it’s going to leave a mark. She is absolutely not fucking around anymore and Will seems to understand her urgency because he slides into her and back out in a long, smooth stroke. Finally. Fucking finally. 

MacKenzie hooks her leg as high over his hip as she can manage and she thanks God that her chosen stress relief prior to fucking Will McAvoy on a regular basis was hot yoga because she knows how to be flexible in less than ideal conditions. The angle’s wrong for him to get his hand between them to rub at her clit but that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway, making a frustrated little noise when he can’t get where she needs it. MacKenzie tips her head forward and tugs his earlobe with her teeth before whispering, “Just fucking get yourself off and deal with me in a minute.” With express permission, Will seems to give up on his attempts to be a gentleman and fucks her, hitting her deep, and MacKenzie sighs; she’s always loved the feeling of being stretched and used and well-fucked. When he comes, she hears “I love you,” come out in a heady rush and she’s not sure which of them says it.

Probably both.

Will lowers her gently and slides his hand between them, fingers and thumb rolling over her clit in a motion that’s less rushed and more not fucking around and MacKenzie chokes off a gasp when he bends down and sucks at her nipple again just as he’s twisting and crooking his fingers inside her to coax her into the orgasm that’s been threatening since she first went down on her knees for him this morning. 

“Good for you?” he asks, grin on his face, and MacKenzie swats him playfully. “Yes, you ass. Now, get out of here so we can watch the parade.”

***

Watching the parade turns into cuddling on the couch, MacKenzie in little more than one of Will’s old t-shirts as she sprawls against his lap and he plays with her hair. When the parade’s done, there’s football and sometime around four they decide they need to get dressed since the caterer is there with the food. Will goes to the door in bare feet and unbrushed hair and MacKenzie stifles a giggle as there’s one very prominent cowlick in the back of his head that only copious amounts of product can ever tame for the camera. On a lazy day like today, there’s no helping it, and while she guesses they ought to eat at the table on actual flatware they decide to just take it all in front of the television and watch the first of many, many Christmas movies sure to bombard them over the next month.

“What do you want for Christmas, hon?” This comes after three helpings of turkey and stuffing and MacKenzie takes a moment to respond, tongue and limbs made slow by the sheer amount of food she’s consumed today. “I have everything I need, Billy. You put a ring on my finger, we’re getting married...I really don’t think I’m in the market for much else.”

Will tuts a little and mumbles under his breath that she’s getting a present whether she likes it or not and MacKenzie can’t help but laugh. Knowing Will, she’ll have half the diamonds on the Eastern Seaboard to open on Christmas morning even if she professes she doesn’t need a damn thing and that’s one of the things she loves most about him. 

“What do you want, then? There has to be something.” Will is quiet for a moment before he puts his plate to the side and draws her into his arms so she’s sprawled out on top of him. He slides one hand up the back of her thigh, cupping her ass beneath the soft t-shirt and brushes a kiss against her mouth. 

“I have absolutely everything I need. Today was fantastic. I just want this again and again for the rest of my life.”

MacKenzie sincerely hopes she can make that happen. She knows they’ll fight, they always do, but right now it seems perfect and she doesn’t want to ruin that by being practical. 

“Well, when you have nothing but me on Christmas morning, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Better make a list.”


	4. Chapter 4

MacKenzie makes a point of not sleeping over with Will more than six nights in a row. The seventh night of the week, whenever it happens to be, is the one she spends in her own bed across town and she hates every second of it. At first, it was a nice respite from constant togetherness but now she just feels like she’s making a mistake whenever she does it and she guesses that’s how she knows it’s time to move in together.

The day she puts her apartment on the market, she feels a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach and she corners Will in his office before the show, pacing back and forth as she tries to find a way to tell him. He looks at her, seemingly amused, and motions her close. “Uh, MacKenzie? You’re going to wear the carpet down and you’re making me nervous. Sit for me?”

While she might normally sit in the chair when they’re working, MacKenzie perches on the edge of his desk instead. Will lays a hand over her knee, brushing his thumb gently against the inside of it and MacKenzie feels herself relax. It’s really stupid just how much he affects her on a daily basis and she’d be a little angry about it except she knows that Will McAvoy is wrapped around her pinky finger. 

“I put my apartment up for sale. The realtor listed it this morning.” Will frowns for a moment, trying to work that out, then smiles. Will’s smile has always been one of the things she loves best about him because his real smile, the one he isn’t just doing for the cameras, is one where his eyes have a little sparkle and crinkle at the corners. It’s not quite as pronounced as her own smile and it happens a lot more rarely but that just makes her treasure it even more. Goddamn, she loves this man. 

“So you’re moving in? About time.” MacKenzie wants to point out that they hooked back up the first week of November and it’s not even Christmas yet but she doesn’t because she’s absolutely elated. She thinks that living with Will isn’t the daunting, scary thing she thought it might be in those early days of their rekindled relationship and she’s eager to make it work. She’s eager to combine their lives and make it messy, make it so that you can’t tell where she ends and he begins. 

“So, we have to add something into the broadcast,” MacKenzie says, switching gears seamlessly. “Jim DeMint is retiring from the Senate and heading up the Heritage Foundation starting in January. I’d normally be happy about his seat being vacant but you know it’ll go Red.” Will laughs a little. “Well, maybe it won’t be Tea Party Red and it’ll be you know. Moderate, sane Republican Red instead.”

MacKenzie snorts. “I am pretty sure that 50 Shades of Grey is more safe, sane and consensual than a Tea Party rally. I doubt highly that seat is getting filled by anyone we actually like but I guess we could always hold out hope for the impossible, right?” Will slides his hand a little higher up on her leg, just beneath the hem of her skirt, and squeezes her thigh affectionately. 

“I eat at least six impossible things for breakfast, Mac. And please tell me that you haven’t read that shit? I’m pretty sure it was written by a woman who doesn’t even know what sex is.” MacKenzie makes a face and shakes her head. “I’m pretty sure the author is married but I didn’t read it, no. I’ve just...read blog reviews of it. In between researching for the show. You know I like to multitask to keep my mind sharp.”

Will watches four sporting events at a time and MacKenzie jumbles multiple tabs in a browser window and reads book blogs when she’s researching Senate votes. Everyone has their vices. “Besides, are you saying that a woman can’t write kink? Because I can introduce you to Anais Nin if you really want me to.” Will’s mouth quirks up a little, amused.

“ _Delta of Venus_ or _Little Birds_? Which one was your feminist essay on at Oxford?” MacKenzie throws her hands up and makes a frustrated little noise under her breath before sliding off the desk. “You have ten minutes. I’ll see you after the show tonight and maybe we can catch dinner before heading home?”

She guesses that he knows how annoyed she is because he doesn’t fuck with her quite as much in the control room tonight as usual. He asks a few pressing questions of the economist they have on tonight and even though Sloan’s off, she thinks Will does an admirable job of putting him on the spot and really getting the information to the audience; she and Will have always been a fantastic team when it comes to their jobs, even when everything else had gone to shit, and when they’re _together_ , they’re flawless.

When they finally wrap everything up and can head home, the night is bitterly cold and there’s a little snow falling. Will slides his arm around her and holds her close while they wait on the car to come around and when they slide in the backseat, he presses up against her to warm her up. MacKenzie has always been terribly cold-natured but in spite of that, she loves winter. She loves cuddling. Will tries to hide it but he loves it too. MacKenzie has his number on that.

When they get home, Will turns on the fireplace and they spend a long time just cuddling on the couch. MacKenzie has two glasses of wine and feels warm and comfortably drowsy as she sprawls against Will, her head pillowed on his chest and his hand playing lightly in her hair. “I read Anais Nin but I preferred Story of O,” he volunteers and MacKenzie laughs a little, unsure of what to say to that. 

“I’m not into the weird stuff,” she warns him. “So don’t go getting any ideas. But do you concede my point that women can effectively and beautifully write erotica?” Will is quiet for a moment, considering his answer, and when he speaks again his voice is low and gravelly and makes heat pool low in her belly. 

“I think women know a hell of a lot more about what gets us off than we know about them. But ultimately, I don’t really like the hardcore stuff. Neruda is sexy. I’d rather read something romantic, though. I liked _The Time-Traveler’s Wife_. I can admit a shameless love of Nicholas Sparks as long as we’re here in the privacy of our own home. But are those sexy? Not really. Romantic. Sometimes over the top, if we’re talking about Sparks, but _The Notebook_ is good.”

Will tips her face up and kisses her, soft and slow. “I’d rather listen to music. Books tell me who this woman is supposed to be, her name and age and occupation. If it’s a song, I can imagine they’re all you.”

It’s something she’d think trite if it was anyone but Will but it’s just another reminder of how head over heels she is for him that she thinks it’s one of the sweetest things she’s ever heard. She leans in and kisses him again and again, kissing without any agenda, and wonders if there’s a way to just capture this moment forever and ever.

***

When she gets in on Monday morning, there’s a copy of _Venus in Furs_ on her desk with a post-it laid on top. MacKenzie snatches it up and reads the note, wondering what in the fuck Will’s intern thought when he asked her to pick this up and leave it on her desk.

> To your continued erotic education since Oxford left a few things out. Love always, W.

It’s going to be hell in the control room tonight. 


	5. Chapter 5

By Christmas, MacKenzie is completely moved in. She’s a little more relaxed than Will when it comes to keeping things neat and the apartment takes on a cozy, messy and lived-in feeling that she suspects it’s never actually had before now. There’s pillows on the couch and blankets everywhere and her makeup and moisturizer are strewn across his bathroom to the point where Will seems to have reached his threshold for the haphazard. He holds up an empty tube of what looks like eyeshadow primer and his brows rapidly approach his hairline.

“Mac, you realize that there’s a trash can in the house, right? There’s multiple trash cans, all waiting to be filled up with trash. Why’d you leave this on the bathroom counter?” It’s Christmas Eve and she’s wrapped up in bed with comfy pajamas (a nightshirt with all nine reindeer, thanks) and two blankets. She gives him a sheepish little grin. 

“Well, Billy, you can just toss it in the bin then, can’t you? Since you’re standing there?” He sighs loudly and makes a production of dropping the little blue tube into the garbage; there’s a loud clank as it hits the metal bottom and MacKenzie is completely distracted from her novel of choice this evening. It’s just a regency romance, nothing spectacular, but it’s comfort reading just like earlier she and Will ate a whole pan of baked macaroni in lieu of actually eating food. 

“Still really need to talk about that,” he grumbles, sliding into bed next to her. His feet press against her calves and she squeals because they’re cold and she’s nice and warm from being under the blankets. Will seems to take this as an invitation to do it again, pressing them beneath her knees and she ends up tussling with him until she’s straddling him in the bed. Her hair falls down into her face and Will tucks it back behind her ear, grinning up at her. 

“Look, you do that shit to me all the time. It was about time I got the reap the benefits of your warmth.” MacKenzie rolls her eyes and wriggles against him, pressing her ass against his lap and he grips her hips with his hands to hold her there. He rolls his hips up against her and it turns from playful to serious in a half second because he’s hot and hard under him and her previous plans for reading trashy romance novels are suddenly out the window. 

“Oh...okay, you convinced me,” she whimpers, sliding down her panties and tugging down his boxers just enough so that she’s rubbing against bare skin instead of fabric. It’s cold in the apartment, made even worse by the fact that Will has wide windows with no curtains and MacKenzie isn’t really too keen on stripping completely. Will’s fingers slide over her hip to brush over her clit and she bites her lip to stifle a moan before guiding him inside. She’s not quite ready but Will seems content to let her adjust, playing with her clit some more and sliding a hand up to cup and tease one of her breasts. 

“Don’t move,” she murmurs and he nods, his own eyes drifting shut as he tries to fight off doing that very thing. “You’re too fucking big to just slide in there without any warning.” He laughs and gives her a little lopsided grin, looking for all the world like a high school boy who’s just been paid a high compliment by a woman who’s old enough to know better. He plays with her a little more, coaxing her body to relax and arouse before he moves his hips just enough to slide out by a half inch before he presses back up into her. 

“Can I roll you over?” he asks and MacKenzie nods, letting him roll them and shifting so she’s comfortable beneath him. This isn’t usually what they pick but tonight, with frost riming the windows and the prospect of several long days together stretched before them, she can’t really find it in herself to care that they’re going about this a little differently from usual. Will cups her cheek and leans in for a long kiss. 

The thing about kissing Will is that he pours all of himself into it and it’s much more intimate than fucking him. Maybe that’s a bit trite and something that only hookers played by Julia Roberts say but it holds a shred of truth in that she thinks Will reserves his strongest intimacies, the sharing of kisses and a bed and a whole life, for the people he feels strongly about. She has no doubt in her mind that there’s nobody who’s ever gotten as much of Will McAvoy as she does and the last time he entrusted her with something so fragile and precious, she crushed it under her heel without thinking about what she’d lost until it was too late. 

But after six long years, she’s pieced him together again and used her own feelings as the glue. She’s wrapped up in this, invested, and it’s never been more evident than right now when she’s kissing him on a cold winter’s night and there’s nothing in the world but the two of them; MacKenzie is pretty sure something red could come over the AP wire and she’d ignore it, at this point. Will moves in her and she cries out a little, soft and small and he soothes her with kisses to her lips, her neck. Will knows her well enough by now that he shifts his angle to hit her in just the right places and she’s feeling pretty good when he comes even if she hasn’t yet. 

He slides away just enough to lay beside her instead of on top of her and reaches his hand between her legs, long fingers stroking her and teasing her until her body can’t handle it any longer and tips over the edge. The orgasm is lazy and sweet, unassuming, and unlike how she usually is (loud and vocal with how damn good she feels) this is quiet and easy. No need for theatrics. 

No need for anything but them.


	6. Chapter 6

With the new year comes the realization that everything has changed. MacKenzie had been aware of that, of course, but it’s thrown into sharp relief when she realizes that she will not be single on December 31 and Will won’t have some empty-headed eyecandy on his arm for the ACN New Years’ party. It’s been a long time since either of them have had fun on New Years Eve and MacKenzie thinks that this year can’t help but be better than last: she’s not going with Wade Campbell and Will’s not getting drinks thrown in his face by gossip columnists with, admittedly, very nice legs. 

Instead, she’ll be his date and she’s decided she’s going to wear bright red and brilliant gold. Usually she wears black and tries to blend in a little but not this year. She’s proud to be Will’s date and proud to flash the diamond on her left hand and, more than that, she’s proud that their show is still together. It’s a little banged up and unsure at the moment, yeah, but it’s theirs and they’re going to weather this storm. 

She and Will actually end up meeting at the party. He had an engagement at the Mayor’s to go to before coming to ACN and MacKenzie hadn’t wanted to go; Will was more than happy to let her off the hook since _he_ hadn’t wanted to go either and when he wanders into the ACN party, it’s close to midnight. Instead of hiding in his office like last year, he greets everyone with a wide smile and the affability that MacKenzie has always known he had buried deep beneath his anger and betrayal. It’s nice to see Will be the man she fell in love with all over again and as much as he makes noise about hating people, he lives for these kinds of parties. 

He’s mid-conversation with Tamara when he seems to see her and he just stops. His eyes flick up and down and come to rest on her face, wide and a little hungry. There’s a long time yet before they can slip away and MacKenzie gives him a sly little grin. She knows exactly how good she looks tonight and exactly how much Will is into her. If nothing else, she’s never doubted how attracted Will was to her even if he hated her. 

There’s no fear of that tonight. Will breaks away from everyone else and wraps his arms around her, leaning in to whisper against her ear, “You look fucking fantastic tonight,” and slide his mouth down to kiss her neck. It’s a little much for public but MacKenzie can smell champagne on his breath and she’s had a couple herself. Neither of them should be operating heavy machinery or reporting breaking news. Everyone in the newsroom is whistling and MacKenzie pulls away, laughing, and feels the warmth in her skin that is a tell-tale sign that she’s blushing from the roots of her hair down to her chest; Will’s looking a little pink himself. 

Everything dies down after a moment or two and Will leads her back to his office where they can have a little more privacy. It’s still horribly public but at least nobody’s paying attention to them at the moment. See no evil, speak no evil, right? MacKenzie perches on the edge of his desk while Will fumbles with the key to unlock the top drawer. This was the same drawer that he kept her ring in for all those months and she still doesn’t know why he doesn’t fucking use the safe behind him if he’s going to keep valuable things in his office. It doesn’t make sense he’d keep anything in here anyway, considering they live together now, but MacKenzie has yet to understand the logic that goes on in Will McAvoy’s brain. 

He draws out a long, flat box that isn’t the shiny new of the Harry Winston and Tiffany boxes that had constituted her Christmas present. This looks old and knowing what she does about Will’s family life, she didn’t think there were many heirlooms laying around. The thing about heirlooms is that they're special and something you give to a person that you know is going to be around for a while. Will has enough money that diamonds don't mean all that much, he can buy them for someone he spotted on the street with a nice ass, but family treasures are something else entirely and MacKenzie is more than thrilled that he trusts her with one. It's a sign that things between them have honestly changed for the better, that he's not waiting for the other shoe to drop and for her to waltz out of his life again the way she had six years ago. It makes her a hell of a lot more confident about her engagement, that's for sure. He pushes the box across the desk toward her and gives her a small, unsure little smile. “This was my mother’s. It came from her mother, who got it from her grandmother. My sisters should have gotten it, I guess, but both of them felt like I should have it and give it to my wife. You’re not my wife yet but I thought it was close enough that you should...well, open it?”

MacKenzie does. It’s a simple pendant shaped like a four-pointed star, made of gold, and the chain is fine and delicate and MacKenzie fears breaking it if she wears it too often. She reaches behind her neck to unhook the clasp of the gold necklace she’s worn for years and years, the one her father gave her before heading off to Cambridge, and lays it against the desk to exchange it for this new one. She fiddles a little with the clasp and Will comes behind her to do it himself, his fingers barely trembling over the delicate gold and before he steps away, he presses a kiss just beneath her right ear. 

The pendant lays just above her breasts and MacKenzie looks at it for a moment, touched that Will would give her something so sweet and clearly meaningful. It’s obvious he intends them to last and whatever doubts she still has flee tonight. They might be back later, of course, because that’s the nature of such things but tonight, she isn’t worried about any of that. She’s content with her place in the world as Will’s fiancee and executive producer and no matter what gets thrown at them tomorrow, she’s content for right now. 

“It’s beautiful, Will,” she murmurs, reaching for him, and when he kisses her, it’s soft and unhurried and unconcerned with anyone who might be watching. MacKenzie thinks it might be a good idea to move to somewhere a bit more private than Will’s glass fronted office but a bit more private is only a few steps away; she has no qualms about continuing this in the bathroom and apparently, neither does he. 

Will’s bathroom is a little more generous than an office bathroom ought to be and MacKenzie leans against the sink and hikes up her skirt while motioning for him to come close with one carefully-crooked finger. Will grins and undoes his tuxedo pants, letting them fall down around his ankles, but when he gets close enough to touch her, he spins her around so she’s against the wall instead. Oh. This is a pleasant surprise. He reaches under her skirt and tugs down the scrap of lace that passes for panties (Seriously, MacKenzie thinks that Agent Provocateur charges more the less fabric there is and she’s really not covering a lot of real estate here to begin with) but leaves on the garters and stockings. MacKenzie spreads her legs as wide as she can manage and it’s still not enough so she hikes her skirt up around her waist and slides her legs apart a little more.

Will laughs, warm and low, and slides his fingers between her thighs. “It’s almost like you planned it,” he murmurs and MacKenzie doesn’t even have the decency to be embarrassed. She has no trouble with arousal, especially not where Will’s concerned, and even the suggestion of fucking him is enough to get her well on the way. He rubs his fingers against her a little more and when she feels them come away slick (she knows, he pressed one against her thigh before tugging it up to his mouth to taste) she moans for him to get on with it. 

So he does, in one smooth stroke. This position means he’s in deep without really having to move all that much and Will takes his time, letting her adjust and just take him in before moving any faster. MacKenzie appreciates that but she wants to be _fucked_ , not coddled, so she bends over as much as she can and Will seems to get the hint, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs and cock hitting her hard and deep. Fuck. 

MacKenzie manages to get her hand underneath and between her legs, rubbing furiously at her clit while Will fucks her. She knows that in the movies and in those stupid porn books that Elliot’s show has been going on about, women come without so much as a stiff breeze in their direction but she’s realistic. Will feels good, damn good, but he’s not going to be enough to get her off by himself. Will’s never seemed to mind when she helps herself out and she guesses it’s because it feels fucking good when she comes around him. She’s coming now, squeezing tight around his cock, and MacKenzie feels her thighs trembling a little when she pulls her hand away from her clit and presses both of them palms down against the cold marble of Will’s sink.

He’s not far behind her, his moan strangled and a little distorted because the bathroom echoes and he leans against her for a moment. He’s heavy but it’s not all that uncomfortable and when MacKenzie risks looking up, she sees his face is as flushed as hers. She looks ridiculous, freshly fucked, and their hair is a goddamn mess. Anyone who sees them is going to know exactly what they’ve been up to but she guesses it doesn’t matter. She’s hardly the first person to fuck someone in a bathroom at ACN and she doubts she’ll be the last. 

She and Will straighten up and fix their clothes. MacKenzie’s panties find their way into Will’s pocket instead of back on and she grins a little when his cheeks go bright pink at the realization of what she’d done. Will, sometimes, is such a Nebraska Republican square that it hurts. It’s sweet, though, and she kisses his cheek before sauntering back out of the bathroom. He takes a little longer to make sure his hair is perfectly coiffed and follows her, offering his arm. They manage to get back out to the bullpen just as the countdown has started and MacKenzie kisses him furiously at midnight, arms wrapped around his neck. 

She doesn’t give a shit if anyone’s watching because what she does isn’t for audience approval.


	7. Chapter 7

January is bitterly cold and slides into an even worse February but come March, there seems to be light at the end of the tunnel. Today is a little warmer even if there’s still tons of rain and when MacKenzie comes into Will’s office, her shoes squelch a little. Fuck. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but it’s like the sky is coming down out there. Anyway, can we talk?”

Will looks up and his face is distracted a little. He’d been reading something on his phone and now it’s like he’s having trouble concentrating on what she has to say. Strange but she guesses he’ll cough it up once she’s done talking. She settles in the chair opposite his desk and sighs. 

“I was thinking we need to set a date. There’s no way we’ll know what’s going to happen, or whatever, but we can avoid election season so we have a chance to actually have an anniversary sometimes? I think I’d like something in the autumn, if we can manage that. September or October might be nice.” MacKenzie is aware she’s rambling but she’s nervous and right now is the first time she’s really felt confident enough about their engagement to start moving it toward a marriage. 

“My sisters want the wedding in Nebraska,” Will says, pushing his phone toward her. There’s a series of texts from what looks like both his sisters, all looped in on one reply all. MacKenzie doesn’t dare use reply all anymore, not after the email fiasco, but she recognizes that it has uses from time to time. This conversation is simply a bombardment of his sisters wanting the wedding in Nebraska, in a _barn_ , to invite all the family and Will has a look of sheer panic on his face. Well. The least she can do is put him out of his misery. 

“I am not getting married anywhere other than New York. My heart’s set on Trinity but if we can’t do it there, I’d like St. George’s.” St. Patrick’s might be lovely but while she never practices, she can’t use a Catholic church for her Anglican wedding. It just wouldn’t do. “Your family is, of course, welcome, but I’m just not going to have this wedding in a place where our staff can’t come to it. They mean a lot to me.”

MacKenzie is firm on this and she’s not going to knock out Maggie and Neal and Jenna and some of the less affluent members of their staff by having the wedding somewhere other than the city. Will nods; it seems he’s thinking the same way and, besides, she knows his heart resides in New York and he’d rather have it here than anywhere else in the entire world. That, and she knows that Nebraska isn’t a happy place for him, siblings or no siblings. 

“Yeah, staff should come. So, we might as well get all this out of the way while you have me trapped but what do you want to do about the reception?” MacKenzie laughs a little and leans back in her chair. “I’d like to do an actual sit down meal, if we can. I despise buffets. I want a chocolate fountain, though, so that has to happen. I need to be able to drink my weight in chocolate after all the dieting I need to do to get in my wedding gown.”

Will arches a brow. “Mac, no offense, but a stiff breeze could blow you over. I think you look gorgeous _now_ so there’s no point in starving yourself for a dress when any fucking designer in this city would kill to make your gown. I could call Vera Wang right now and she’d start drawing patterns. So, no. Eat what you want. I love you.”

MacKenzie nearly volunteers that she’d been making a joke but Will’s emphatic response makes her just stay quiet instead. It’s kind of sweet, the way he feels so strongly about her and she doesn’t want to cheapen it by self-deprecating or brushing it aside. Instead, she smiles a little. “All right, well, I’m calling your bluff. Call up Vera Wang and have her design my wedding gown.” Will rolls his eyes but it’s fond. She has no doubt he can call someone who knows someone that can make it happen. Besides, it’s good publicity.

“Let’s set it for October 19th,” MacKenzie says, flipping through the calendar on Will’s phone. “It gives us a couple months to pull everything together and book what we need to book. I’m marrying a celebrity, they’ll make it work out for us.” Will _is_ a celebrity, even if MacKenzie wishes he’d be less concerned with that and more concerned with doing his job and doing it well. He cares far too much about what others think and it’s often to his own detriment when it comes to making NewsNight a success.

“I’ll text my sisters,” Will says, reaching out for the phone and brushing his fingers against hers in the process. God, she loves his hands. She always has but she especially loves them now since Will keeps them on her on a more or less regular basis. She reaches out and squeezes his hand, tangling her fingers with his, and while it’s the middle of the workday and she needs to get ready for the 11:00 AM rundown meeting, they can stand to take a moment right now. Just a moment, stolen from the rest of the day.

Will brings her hand to his lips and brushes a kiss against her knuckles. “Rundown, right? I’ll be in there in a minute if you want to go ahead and go.” MacKenzie nods and reluctantly extricates her hand from his, trying to shift gears back to the broadcast and away from the butterflies in her stomach, the same ones she always gets when he touches her. She wonders if that will ever fade, if her feelings for Will are ever going to mellow out and become more even-keeled. The highest highs and lowest lows of her life have all been tied in some way or another to Will McAvoy. 

“If you’re late, it better be because you’re getting Vera Wang on the phone and begging her to do my wedding gown,” she murmurs. “Got it?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”


	8. Chapter 8

In mid-May, MacKenzie breaks down and hires a wedding planner because she can’t plan the show and look at cake samples, flowers, table settings and all the ridiculous minutiae that go into pulling off a big, classy celebrity wedding. She picks an overly-excitable girl named Felicity who’s a friend of Tess’s and is beyond thrilled that she’s landed a client as prestigious as MacKenzie McHale. MacKenzie likes that she’s doing a favor for someone who’s up-and-coming and hopes this will bode well in the future for Felicity. 

They haven’t been able to corner Will long enough to ask his opinion on anything but on this lazy Saturday in late May, they have about fifteen samples of wedding cake laid out on his dining room table and Will seems a hell of a lot more excited about this part of the planning than he has about anything else. 

“This is white cake with fondant, which you can design any way you want,” Felicity says, pushing one of the plates toward Will. He chews it thoughtfully for a moment and shakes his head. That’s not going to work. “No offense, but that tastes terrible. Is there any way I can get something in the chocolate arena?”

Felicity pipes up and says that sometimes chocolate doesn’t look as elegant but MacKenzie waves her hand at that. She doesn’t give two fucks, so long as the cake is passably pretty and Will thinks it tastes good. He reaches for something that looks promising, a cake that is chocolate with dark and white chocolate on top, along with what suspiciously looks like pieces of candied orange. Will digs his fork in and eats, a blissful look coming on his face. 

“Holy shit, this one. I don’t even need to taste the rest of them, I want this one.” Felicity writes a few things down on her notepad and grins. “Well, that’s a Sylvia Weinstock cake. We’ll make it happen, even though she’s booked solid. I can make anything you want happen, Mr. McAvoy.” Will cuts a look over to MacKenzie and the corner of his mouth is tipped up in a half-grin. 

“Do you think there’s any chance in hell we can get Felicity to call me Will instead of Mr. McAvoy or is that a lost cause, Mac?” Felicity turns pink and MacKenzie does too through secondhand embarrassment. This girl’s still in her twenties and hasn’t had anyone as a client so high profile as Will so it’s probably overwhelming. Even if she _is_ friends with Tess, it’s not like she’s been in the newsroom with him day in and day out.

“Sorry Mr...Will. Sorry. I’m just not used to having someone this high-profile as a client and I’m trying to do a good job so you can recommend me to your friends.” Will laughs, but it’s warm and welcoming. Will has a strange way of evoking Midwestern charm as easily as he can be an elitist, Northeastern prick and MacKenzie has always admired that mutable quality of his. She’s never been able to be anything but precisely what she is - privileged, but sweet, and a bit ridiculous about 90% of the time. Will is a whole other creature.

“Most of my friends are married and divorced already but if there’s someone out there looking for a wedding planner, I’ll put a bug in their ear and you’ll be the planner I recommend. You’re doing a great job. MacKenzie and I don’t have time to deal with this shit and you’ve basically made it so all we have to do is come up here and eat cake and pick one. We didn’t have to call the places, arrange the meetings...you did it all for us. I call that a job well done. Besides, I would much rather give you business than someone who already has a celebrity client list a mile long. Everyone needs to get a start somehow.”

Felicity beams a little and pulls out a folder full of glossy photographs. These are flowers, this time, and she spreads the photos out on the table so they can look at them. “Well, since you’re doing an autumn wedding, I thought that deep burgundy and muted orange would be the best. I know it sounds ridiculous on paper but take a look at these photos and see what you think.” These aren’t the colors that MacKenzie would instantly think of putting together but it works. It doesn’t look too Halloween and it definitely evokes autumn instead of the height of summer. She nods, happy with it, and looks over at Will. 

“Well, you’re the expert,” he says, tapping one of the arrangements. “But I like this one. Call whoever you need to call to make this one happen and I’ll be a happy customer.” Felicity jots that down and scribbles a few more things in her planner before saying she’s got to go and handle another client. She scurries out the door without collecting the cake samples back up and Will grins.

“I guess we’re going to spend the rest of the afternoon polishing off cake, aren’t we? Because I’m a big fan of cake.” MacKenzie rolls her eyes playfully and tugs one of the plates toward her, popping a bite into her mouth and sighing blissfully. “Red velvet with white chocolate icing,” she explains and she barely gets the words out before Will is kissing her, lips soft against hers and tongue slipping in just enough to tease before he pulls away. He laughs and there’s a sparkle in his eyes that MacKenzie swears she hasn’t seen since before The Thing That Happened. Damn. He looks _happy_.

“Sorry. You had a little cake on your mouth and I had to fix it. I don’t want you going out and looking like an idiot.” It’s bullshit but MacKenzie doesn’t care. She cares even less when he picks up the plate of cake again and offers her a little on the fork, impossibly sweet and overly romantic and she suspects this is the kind of grand overture he wouldn’t be caught dead making in public. He has an image to uphold. She takes the cake and chews thoughtfully before leaning across the table and kissing him again, arms winding around his neck to drag him close. 

They’re _happy_ and it’s a wonderful feeling. She doesn’t fear the other shoe dropping, not anymore.


End file.
